


problems (spent gladiator)

by TheDoomkitten



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Gender Talk and Gender Feelings, Inspired by Actual Gameplay and 3 AM Feelings about Mordred, Internalized Misogyny, Ritsuka May Have a Crush But That Isn't the Focus, Spoilers for London Singularity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25257628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoomkitten/pseuds/TheDoomkitten
Summary: As Clarent flew through the air, carving up clouds high above the city as the roar of the Wild Hunt pierced Mordred's ears, the Knight of Rebellion wondered if standing on Hell's fog just below Londinium's sky was the closest to Heaven Mordred would ever get.(At the end of the final battle atop London, the King of the Wild Hunt speaks six syllables that sparks a conversation between two Sabers.)
Relationships: Chevalier d'Eon | Saber & Mordred | Saber of Red, Female Fujimaru Ritsuka & Mordred | Saber of Red
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. lion's teeth (wrecking ball)

As Mordred stared down Arthur's lance, chest heaving, blood trickling in the seams and cracks of the armor, Mordred wondered if standing on Hell's fog just below Londinium's sky was the closest to Heaven the knight would ever get. 

It was an absurd thought. Heaven and Hell didn't exist. The Throne was the closest thing Earth had to a "Heaven," and, well, Mordred already had that one in the bag. (Big whoop.) But as the Knight of Rebellion gazed into the empty black void of Arthur's helmet, the notion that despite everything Arthur had done, despite how she'd treated Mordred, despite how much blood and sweat and tears and how many times the knight had nearly died saving her kingdom, despite how much Mordred had loved Arthur before Camlann, despite everything...

Arthur would be let into Heaven.

And Mordred would be sent plummeting to the depths of Hell without a second thought.

The clouds beneath Mordred's feet, sewn into a platform by the weave of Tesla's magic—he had refused to call it magic, babbling on about DC or whatever, but Mordred didn't care—buckled as Arthur slammed Rhongomyniad into Mordred over and over again. Mordred could feel ribs snapping in half, blood erupting from the knight's mouth. 

Electricity slipped between the cracks, snaking up Mordred's legs and singing the skin, but the knight could barely feel it as Arthur tossed her son to the side. Mordred sailed through the air like a ragdoll, limbs bending and twisting at unnatural angles as the full weight of the knight's armor crashed into Mash with monumental force.

Shieldy didn't flinch. She just continued her charge as if she'd barely noticed four hundred-odd pounds of muscle and steel colliding into her at full force, meeting Rhongomyniad head-on with her shield without budging an inch as Arthur reared back and plunged it towards Mordred once again. 

Digging Clarent into the clouds, Mordred slowed the immense momentum of the armor, just barely keeping the knight from careening over the edge of the fog and into the streets below. Mordred's muscles screamed to move, to fight, to do anything but

all Mordred could do

was

lie

still.

Mordred's ears rang, the knight's hearing already muffled by Secret of Pedigree and the clangor of battle. In the corners of Mordred's red-tinged vision, restricted to slits by the helmet, a shadow, two shadows, no, just one, jabbed her arm at Arthur and wait, no, there was the second shadow leaping high into the air to descend on the king with sword arm extended, and the first pelted towards Mordred.

"Mordred!  _ Mordred! _ C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon," Ritsuka muttered to herself as she knelt by Mordred, desperately tugging the knight upward as the black coat that barely fit across her shoulders billowed wildly in the wind. "Ugh, curse my weak nerd arms!"

Growling, Mordred shook her off, leaning on Clarent... and collapsed once more, vomiting blood all over Ritsuka's orange tunic. "Shit." Mordred wiped Secret of Pedigree's mouthguard, but only spat up more blood. "Go help Shieldy. I'm done."

"NO! No you aren't. We... we still have a fight to win!" This time, Mordred didn't have the strength to push Ritsuka away as she struggled to pull Mordred to the knight's feet. "You do not  _ get _ to die, got that? You are my  _ friend _ and my friends  _ do not  _ have the privilege of  _ dying _ !" Mordred doubted that Ritsuka even knew what she was doing, but the knight could feel the power of the Command Spell flowing through bone, sinew, muscle, and blood, healing and knitting together and twisting and untwisting until-

It wasn't enough. Not by a country mile. Mordred could stand now, but the armor was the only thing that kept the knight locked against gravity's pull. But that didn't matter. Like Ritsuka said, they still had a fight to win, and there was no way the knight was letting Ritsuka's strength go to waste. So Mordred stepped forward, the chant's syllables hissing through Secret of Pedigree's faceplate. "This is the evil sword..."

This was going to hurt like Hell, and it would tear the knight apart body and soul.

Just what Mordred deserved.

Mordred raised Clarent, the red flare of the devil's lightning carving through Tesla's artificial storm as it sheathed the sword in its light. "That destroyed my father- huh?"

Two dainty hands, so tiny compared to Mordred's gauntleted paws, clamped onto Clarent's hilt. "Together," Ritsuka said, face deathly pale as she trembled with fear.

"What?!" For the first time in a long, long time, Mordred flinched. "The hell do you think you're doing? I don't need your help to-"

"Yes, you do, idiot!" Yeesh. Ritsuka's face was scarier than Lancelot when she was angry. "There's no way you can handle your Noble Phantasm in your condition. I've seen what it does to you when you aren't almost dead." Biting her lip, Ritsuka looked away. "But Clarent is our one shot at defeating Arthur. I might be just a human and this might not help at all and I might get blown to pieces because of this and... despite all of that, I can still share your burden.  _ We do this together. _ "

One Command Spell left. But there was no way Mordred was letting Ritsuka take Clarent's bloody toll. Limbs even heavier, the knight shook back and forth. "Get- off me-"

" _ No! I won't let you do this alone! _ "

No Command Spells left. 

The compulsion forced the words through Mordred's mouth as Ritsuka and the knight's eyes squeezed shut. "Clarent!"

Ritsuka joined in the chant, taking a great, heaving breath as she prepared herself. "Blood!"

**"Arthur!"**

**A thunderclap.**

**A beacon of shining red, cutting through the fog, bringing with it the roar of revolution.**

**Two voices, joined as one.**

**The ashes of a steed crumbling to dust.**

**Metal cracking, breaking.**

**The quiet of a storm passing.**

Then, a single shard of metal, falling, settling among the clouds. A yellow eye, glaring out with pure hatred.

Mordred grinned, the satisfaction of finally putting a dent in Arthur's armor momentarily outweighing the blinding pain. "Up... yours... old man."

Momentarily being the key word. Mordred fell to one knee, the knight's teeth nearly sawing straight through tongue being the only thing that kept Mordred from screaming. Clarent extracted its toll, pure lightning, purer than anything magic or science or even the sky could produce, burned away all of the knight's nerves. 

It didn't hurt as much as it usually did, though. Mordred should've been torn apart in the state the knight was in, so why-

Ritsuka!

Mordred collapsed Secret of Pedigree, staggering over to where Ritsuka laid. She didn't even have the strength to yell, instead curling up into a ball and whimpering as red light surged through her veins. Her hands and forearms were completely blackened. "I-"

Before Mordred could so much as think of a single word to say, the clang of steel on steel pierced straight through the knight's thoughts. A cross-shaped shadow covered Ritsuka and Mordred, held up by a tiny figure that seemed insignificant against the force the unsaddled Arthur and Rhongomyniad brought to bear against her shield: Mash.

Mash stared at Mordred, expression grim and... furious. Mordred had never seen the girl so pissed. She nodded, once, and Mordred knew what to do.

The Knight of Rebellion's body was past pain. There was only duty left within Mordred's mind. Gauntlet almost welded to the hilt of Clarent, Mordred stood up, teeth grit. The knight and Mash had only a few seconds; despite Shieldy's determination, Arthur was pushing her back inch by inch. But if Mordred struck now, there was no way the knight's armor would stop another blow from Rhongomyniad. So how-

"May the Royal Family's lily be eternal.

**"Fleur de Lys!"**

**A soft blue glow bathing the arena.**

**Lily buds, falling, unfolding.**

**Descending to the clouds, blade shining, dancing.**

**A single golden eye turned towards a gentle cerulean radiance, cupped in the embrace of a giant flower,**

**entranced.**

Chevalier d'Eon darted forward, expression the picture of serenity as—he? She? Mordred wasn't sure now that the knight dimly thought of it—struck out at Arthur, rapier up and down and down and left and right and left and forward and back and back and forward and up and- Mordred could barely keep track.

And the knight didn't need to. Muscles burning with the emptiness that came after pain, Mordred jumped and planted a foot onto the back of Arthur's head while she was effortlessly fended off d'Eon's endless flurry of blows, only a few of the other Saber's strikes snaking through the king's guard. What was left of Arthur's helm exploded into shards. Yelling incoherently, Mordred pushed and pushed and pushed, arms singing with pain, Clarent flying and cutting and carving and cleaving the air in half and Arthur's armor into pieces as Mordred put every ounce of anger and hatred and betrayal and longing and love and fury that the knight had into each blow, hammering, blows swinging wide enough to chip Mash's armor, hammering, cuts screeching through cloud hard enough to cut d'Eon's hairs as the dragoon intensified their own assault hammering the gap, until Mordred kicked off of Arthur's torso, tossing Clarent deep into the king's gut with a wet squelch and the burning ozone of lightning, dove, drove it deeper, deeper in with one more kick, ripped it through father's gut, what happened, what was Mordred doing, no, no she deserved it, Arthur deserved every iota of vengeance, and

  
  


Mordred felt Rhongomyniad drive through the knight's armor 

  
  


and

  
  


in

  
  


to

  
  


the

  
  


heart.

  
  
  
  


"Thrust and feast.

"Thirteen fangs.

**"Rhongomyniad."**

**A storm. A red cyclone.**

**A true wild hunt, a hurricane of blood and death and fear.**

**Of justice, twisted.**

**Of lives, lost.**

**Of a world, folded neatly in half.**

Mordred flew back.

Mash staggered. Shield spent for d'Eon. Collapsed next to Ritsuka and Mordred.

d'Eon glared. Cold as ice. Merciful as a guillotine. And charged. Duck under one thrust. Spin out of the way of another. Parry a swipe. Miscalculate. Get blown back. Redouble, slide under guard.  _ Erupt _ , jump up, kick off of chestplate, dive in a dragoon's charge, pierce with a blade of light. Slash left, slice right, thrust once, twice, three times, aim for the jugular and miss. They slid back, feinted low, jumped again at Arthur's thrust, running along the length of Rhongomyniad, slice off more of Arthur's armor. Nose is bloodied by a punch. Sent rocketing back. 

Regain feet. Deep breath. In, out.

Arthur took a deep breath. In, out. 

And  _ move _ . Rhongomyniad was a blur, seeming to wield Arthur instead of the other way around as it stormed forward in a torrent of stabs and thrusts and spears. And yet Chevalier d'Eon avoided each blow, dancing as if they were waltzing in a court ballroom rather than in a Grand Battle for the restoration of humanity. 

One and two and three and-

Strike.

One and two and three and-

Strike, strike.

One and two and three and-

Strike, strike, strike.

One and two and three and-

Each blow carves away Arthur's protection, bit by bit.

One and two and three and-

Until, finally.

One and two and three and-

Three thrusts. They barely seemed to hit, at first glance. Then d'Eon jumped back, flicking their blade free of gore, and blood poured forth from every inch of Arthur's torso.

And the great king of kings, uniter of Britain, wielder of Excalibur, holder of Rhongomyniad, leader of the Wild Hunt, fell.

Mordred stared Arthur in the eyes as she died. The madness faded. Her lips parted to mouth six syllables before Arthur, great king of kings, uniter of Britain, wielder of Excalibur, holder of Rhongomyniad, and father, dissolved.


	2. reaper man

The Knight of Rebellion's eyes closed. They'd tied. Again. And this time, Mordred didn't even land the final blow. Just like before, there wasn't any bitterness, or resentment, or even regret. Only a hollow void, deep in Mordred's gut, where victory or defeat should've been.

It always turned out this way. And it always-

"Cure-All," a tremulous voice rasped, and the fist-sized muscle in Mordred's chest mended and once again beat.

Mash, leveraging her shield, got up and pulled the shaking Ritsuka to her feet. 

Mordred laid there, staring up at the stars as the last of the fog not sustained by Tesla's magic dissipated.

So that was it. Ritsuka had won. And here the great Knight of Rebellion was, staring blankly up at the stars like a useless sack of shit. 

Fitting, really. Mordred had never been meant for the spotlight.

A slender arm looped around Mordred's shoulder. Chevalier d'Eon. Of course. Ritsuka's forever shadow. Even though she and Mash were the only ones that "Rayshifted" to Londinium—whatever that meant—the French Saber was always by her side with a serene smile and a stalwart sword. Ritsuka always said that d'Eon was the "lucky charm" out of all her Servants, that even when they had been at odds the dragoon always pulled through at the last minute to deliver the win. 

Mordred always thought Ritsuka was joking. Sure, d'Eon was damn resilient, but their attack power could barely scratch Mordred's armor.

Then they survived the all-out assault Arthur unleashed, and now Mordred wasn't laughing anymore.

Outshined by a nameless, nobody French(wo)man(?) with a subpar Saint Graph at the moment it mattered the most. Again, how fitting.

"We have no time to rest. Let us move." Right. d'Eon was dragging Mordred down the stairs. When had that happened? Ah, right. While Mordred was busy being miserable and- "Such a dour expression doesn't suit a legend like you. Shouldn't you be exulting at the victory we just achieved?"

d'Eon's voice startled Mordred out of a stupor. "Shut up. Did  _ you  _ just get stabbed through the heart by the Holy Spear? I can be as 'dour' or whatever as I damn well please."

"Touche." d'Eon shrugged, turning away from Mordred to stare down at Ritsuka and Mash, several flights ahead of them. "But Lady Fujimaru is worried about you."

"Your Master can worry about herself. She's the one who nearly burned her arms off clinging to Clarent like it was a teddy bear."

"Hm. Perhaps I could've phrased that better: we're all worried about you. Even when you have taken grievous wounds before, you've always bounced back with a smile on your face."

"Choke on a scorpion, d'Eon. You don't know me."

d'Eon bowed their head. "Very w-"

"I just don't get it!"

"Get what? I- take care." d'Eon pivoted to support Mordred as the knight staggered to the side, Mordred having struck out with a gauntleted fist as if to punch a wall only to realize that there was, in fact, no wall left to punch. "I'd ask if you're well, but I believe that's a question that answers itself."

It was telling that Mordred didn't bother to respond in kind. "After everything she did, after everything she said, that bastard had the  _ balls _ to stare me in the eyes and say that before she died? I swear, I'm going to scrape her inscription off the Throne of Heroes myself,  _ and I know that's impossible so don't you dare quip at me about it! _

"I just..." Mordred's hand slipped down the knight's face. "I don't understand. How could she be  _ sorry? _ "

"Pardon?"

"At the very end, Arthur- Arthur said 'I'm so sorry'!"

There was a moment of silence suspended midair, as electric as the atmosphere. Finally, d'Eon spoke. "Is that really so impossible? She is your father, after all."

"Arthur might be my father, but according to her, I'm sure as Hell not her son! Not according to her, at any rate." d'Eon stayed silent, looking at Mordred with those fathomless blue eyes. "You have a problem, blondie?"

d'Eon shook their head. "No. I was simply giving you the space to speak. It... seems as though you need it."

"Hmph." Mordred's fists clench. "And then the nerve... to call me  _ that _ !"

"Call you...?"

"Her 'daughter!'"

"...ah." 

Mordred continued railing, wildly gesticulating as d'Eon did their level best to keep the knight from falling off the stairs. "I'm not some dainty princess she needs to protect! Not her soft, sweet baby!  _ I destroyed her empire! I tore apart everything she stood for! I'm not some...  _ some..."

"What?"

"I'm not some weak  _ girl _ , okay!" 

Mordred stood stock still, breathing raggedly, while red lightning coursed up and down the armor. 

d'Eon looked ahead, eyes distant. "Then what are you, Sir Mordred?"

"I'm a knight," Mordred huffed.

"That wasn't what I was asking and you know it."

Mordred's mouth opened. Then slowly closed. The knight's head jerked away. "I. Don't know."

"Perhaps... we should start somewhere easier." Chevalier d'Eon brushed a stray lock of hair behind their ear. "Why do you think women are weak?"

The knight's arms crossed. "Nobody respects them. Nobody pays them any mind, or listens to what they say, or watches what they do... my father had to pretend to be a man to get anything done in Camelot."

"And the same could be said of, say, Ushiwakamaru, Drake, and Nero?" d'Eon raised a single eyebrow. 

"Exactly!" 

d'Eon sighed. "Disregarding your ignorance of their circumstances-"

"Hey!"

"-what about Medusa? Or the other Gorgons?"

"They're practically Divine. They don't count."

"Jeanne? People aren't so quick to dismiss her accomplishments."

"Burned at the stake for trying to change something. If she were a man, she wouldn't have had that problem."

"Atalante?"

"..."

"Boudica?"

"..." Mordred continued to stalwartly look away from d'Eon.

"The problem isn't the condition of womanhood, is it?"

"Shut up."

"It's you, specifically, being a 'woman.'"

"I said shut up!" Mordred snarled.

Chevalier d'Eon indeed shut up, continuing to guide the injured knight down the stairs. 

"...It's not like I want to be a man, either."

d'Eon stayed silent.

"Men are just- they do some things right.  _ Some _ ."

"Such as?"

"Leather jackets. Those things are badass. Not worrying about what holds them down. Not having tits. This sort of... air about them. I can't really describe it. But everything else is-"

"You desire masculinity, but not manhood."

"Don't interrupt me, jackass."

"Am I wrong?"

Mordred glared at d'Eon, then exhaled, deflating. "No. You're not. It's just when I look at myself, when I see who I am, what this body is, it's. Not me. And not just because I look exactly like dear ol' dad." The knight chuckled crudely. "If I’m being totally honest, if I wasn’t just a bad copy of father, I'd look pretty damn good... not. Who I want to be.”

There was another moment of suspended silence. But this time, it was... not comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. The taut exhaustion of truth being laid bare, "Sir Mordred. When you look at me, what do you see?"

"A nosy bastard."

d'Eon snorted, amused. "Besides that."

"Hm..." Mordred squinted at d'Eon with a discerning eye. "A... woman? Man? I- ugh, search me."

"The answer is neither."

"Bwuh?"

"Man, woman, somewhere in between..." d'Eon shrugged. "Whatever role is required of me, I will play it. But in the brief lulls, I am one, none, the other, both, something else entirely, whatever is to my liking."

"I don't care what you do in your free time, but that doesn't apply to me, got it? I-" Mordred snapped.

"I never said anything to that effect."

"..."

"You are not like me, I don't think. You have made that clear enough."

"No duh." Mordred's eyes rolled.

"But you are someone similar. Special."

"Like Hell I'm-"

"Not a man? Not a woman?"

"That wasn't what I-"

"What do you call yourself, Sir Mordred? What do you  _ want  _ to call yourself?"

"STOP TALKING!"

d'Eon flinched.

Mordred's eyes were shrouded in shadow. "JUST STOP TALKING! I DON'T NEED TO THINK ABOUT THIS STUFF TO FIGHT! TO BE A GOOD WEAPON, TO FIGHT FOR PEACE AND JUSTICE AND WHATEVER OTHER BULLSHIT MY MASTER OR ARTHUR OR WHOEVER'S GOT THE REINS IS SPOUTING AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT OF THE DAY! NONE OF IT MATTERS! SO WHY DON'T YOU STOP TALKING AND WE CAN PRETEND THIS CONVERSATION NEVER HAPPENED UNTIL I FADE OUT OF EXISTENCE BECAUSE RITSUKA WON, ALRIGHT? SHE WON AND I'LL GO BACK TO THE THRONE AND NEVER HAVE TO THINK ABOUT ANY OF THIS STUFF BECAUSE I'LL PROBABLY NEVER GET SUMMONED AGAIN SINCE WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD WANT A KNOCKOFF ARTHUR WHO COULDN'T DO THE ONE THING IN ITS ENTIRE LIFE THAT IT SET OUT TO DO!"

d'Eon's reply froze Mordred in the knight's tracks. "Ritsuka would want you."

"Liar."

"You don't mean that."

"Just... stop.  _ Stop _ , d'Eon.

"She-"

"STOP IT!"

d'Eon paused, then nodded. "Very well. But, Mordred-"

"WHAT!"

"There may come a day when you won't have to fight for every moment of your life. And when that day comes... 

"I hope you find the answers to these questions."

Mordred didn't even the energy left for a witty rebuttal.

* * *

The first thing that Mordred felt after the light faded was the always-unpleasant sensation of having a physical form. 

Most Servants relished the chance to truly see, to touch, to  _ feel _ after an indeterminate amount of time in the Throne. But to Mordred... while returning to Saint Graph was hardly pleasant, it was also a relief from the constant awareness of everything that came with having a body and knowing that it was the body the knight was inhabiting and-

Gah.

The second thing that Mordred felt after the light faded was the impact of a scrawny human colliding into the knight's armor, arms not even able to fully wrap around the breadth of the breastplate. "MOOOOOOOOOOOORDRRREEEEEEEEED!"

Mordred stiffened. "Woah- Ritsuka, what the  _ hell _ ?"

"I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU AFTER YOU DISAPPEARED SO I SPENT FOREVER HUNTING FOR QUARTZ AND I KNOW I SHOULD BE SAVING HUMANITY OR WHATEVER BUT I NEEDED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE OKAY AND-"

"Woah woah woah- just- back off, sheesh!"

"No." Despite Mordred's best attempts to pry Ritsuka off, the Master remained stubbornly attached to Mordred. What was it that she was saying about weak nerd arms back when they were fighting Arthur? Sheesh. 

But despite that, a smile crept across Mordred's face from behind Secret of Pedigree.

Later, after Ritsuka's mage (or scientist, apparently) separated the Master from her new Saber, Mordred was given free rein over Chaldea. The knight wandered the halls aimlessly for hours, slowly getting familiar with the massive, mostly empty, but slowly filling complex. 

And then Mordred came across an open door right next to Ritsuka's room, where Chevalier d'Eon stood, waiting. They held a cup of coffee in each hand, and wordlessly handed one to Mordred.

The knight hesitated. Then, after an infinite moment, they took it, collapsing Secret of Pedigree. "Hey, uh," Mordred mumbled, the words catching in their throat. "Can... we talk?"

Chevalier nodded once, smiling, and led Mordred inside, closing the door behind the two of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Apologies for the rough prose, particularly in this chapter, but I felt like overediting would detract from the point I wanted to make. I also wrote this after the London singularity and exactly six episodes of /Apocrypha so if the characterization seems off, that's why.


End file.
